


Wheelchair Accessible

by Black_Rose_Authoress



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Rose_Authoress/pseuds/Black_Rose_Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Alfred Jones rescues Arthur Kirkland from a potentially-homicidal wheelchair ramp, he asks him out on a date. The two proceed to be utter dorks as they prepare for the evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Arthur hates people. He really fucking hates people.

Like asshole people who park in the handicap spots, leaving him with nowhere to park his van. He's had to crawl out of the passenger's side of his van multiple times because of assholes like that. Or people who stand across the parking lot, clearly see him fall out of his chair, and don't come over to help him. He really really hates those people.

The guy's staring at him and smoking a cigarette while he's struggling in the slush, trying to pull himself into his tipped-over wheelchair.

If he weren't preoccupied with trying to get himself back into his chair, he'd flip the guy off. He probably  _will_ flip the guy off once he's seated again.

"Fucking winter. Fucking ramps. Fucking…"

"Dude, are you  _okay_!?"

Arthur instantly recognises that voice and he feels his stomach sink down into the cold icy water that's currently freezing his fingers. Seriously, out of anybody who had to see him like this, why did it have to be  _him_?

Alfred Jones, also known as the guy he's had a hopeless crush on since middle school, crouches down into sight. He has a worried expression on his too-handsome-to-be-legal face. "Are you hurt anywhere? Let me help you…" He stands and Arthur watches as he rights his chair and then seems to notice the asshole across the parking lot. For a moment, Alfred looks like he wants to go over and chew the guy out, but instead it looks like he takes a deep breath and then turns and flashes Arthur a smile that makes his heart flip like a dolphin performing tricks.

"You okay with me helping you up?"

Arthur could be totally suave right now; he could be witty and make a good impression on the guy that he'd been mooning over for forever.

Instead, he tosses his head and crosses his arms over his chest. "Won't be the first time somebody's helped me off my ass."

Alfred actually laughs, while Arthur internally beats himself over the head with a bat, and then moves behind him. "Okay, upsie-daisy!"

He slides his hands under Arthur's armpits and lifts and this is probably the closest Arthur will ever be to his crush, so he should savour every moment.

All he can think, though, is that this is probably the most embarrassing experience of his life and he really wishes that his chair would just sink into the ground with him in it.

Also, Alfred is surprisingly strong. He lifts him back into his chair without seeming to exert any extra energy and then walks to the front and settles his feet into their rests before charming him with another grin. "Your name's Arthur, right? I've seen you around before."

He really shouldn't feel any stupid chest butterflies right now; it's not surprising that Alfred would know his name. He's the only kid in their school in a wheelchair. Still, his traitorous heart ignores common sense and he feels his cheeks flush. "I…" He isn't sure what to say so he finally stammers out a "th—thanks," before he spins his chair back toward his van.

Alfred laughs his stupid obnoxious laugh that always carries down the hallways at school. "No problem! Any hero would help you out!"

Ah, yes, his little hero complex. It was well-known around school. Probably the only reason he'd stopped and helped him. Arthur can't help but feel a tint of bitterness seep into him, like the cold that had seeped through his clothing.

He might as well just go home now and change.

"Um," Except he's interrupted by a clearing throat. He turns his head and sees Alfred rubbing at the back of his head with one hand and—is he blushing? "I—My name's Alfred. I…are you doing anything later today?"

And for a moment, Arthur's pretty sure the cold has caused him to hallucinate. Maybe he's still lying in the middle of the parking lot and all of this is a dream.

He knows he's blushing now. "I—I don't have any specific plans." Besides working on homework, trying not to set the kitchen on fire again while making dinner, and maybe watching some Classic Doctor Who while his roommate was out with his girlfriend-of-the-week.

"Cause there's a basketball game tonight. My buddy's playing and I wondered if you might wanna go…"

The insane part of Arthur's brain unfortunately had control right now, as it blurted out, "Yes!" before he had a chance to actually  _think_.

And Alfred beamed in response. "Great! Do you want me to pick you up at like five? We can go to McDonald's and then head over."

This is just too bizarre. Arthur's still half-convinced he's hallucinating. "That's fine. If my chair can fit in your car."

"My bro has a truck, no worries." Alfred grins again and then glances toward the ramp leading into his van. "You need help getting in?"

Definitely not. Although Arthur's half-panicked that he's going to fall again, just to add another helping of mortification. He shakes his head, though, and then rolls himself up the ramp and gets himself into the van, thankfully without incident, before turning his head. "I live at 1434 West Hickory Road. Bottom floor. If my roommate answers the door, tell him to piss off."

And he hurriedly closes the door at that, before he could say anything too stupid. For a moment, he just sits there and tries to calm his breathing. Then he turns and glances out the window.

To see Alfred turn and punch the air victoriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ This is a stand alone story that has a fun little history. Back in 2013, I was approached on tumblr to write a few short stories for a fic-a-day calendar event. This first chapter was my story for that event and it ended up being popular enough that I decided (last year) to write a continuation.
> 
> So, this prologue makes up the original short story. The later chapters all come from my continuation fic. (So there is an upping in quality, probably. xD)


	2. Chapter 2

If it weren't for the fact that his ass was currently soaking wet, Arthur probably would have thought that this whole afternoon had been a dream. Some fairy tale that his mind created wherein Alfred Jones—the guy he'd had a crush on since middle school—swooped in just like a white knight to save him. Although if it was a fairy tale, he probably would have changed the setting to somewhere that wasn't a frozen Walmart parking lot.

Also would have changed the situation so the 'rescue' didn't involve him getting knocked out of his wheelchair by his van's demon-possessed ramp and having to be picked up and put back in his seat by said hopeless crush.

He would keep the outcome the same, though. Because—and he really didn't understand _how_ this had happened—he now had a _date_ planned for this evening with Alfred 'F. for Fucking-Beautiful' Jones.

A _date_. With Alfred. This evening.

It was actually difficult to keep from squealing at that thought, but he managed. Because he was a man, and men did not _squeal_.

His fingers were almost completely numb by the time he reached the front door of his apartment. Numb enough that he almost dropped the house key and had to fumble frantically to keep it from falling right down between the porch slats. Because that would be _just_ what he needed.

He finally managed to make his way inside, though, and was instantly hit with warmth. Warmth and the scent of gingerbread.

Which meant his roommate was home.

"Francis?"

He wasn't honestly sure whether he was happy or annoyed by this fact. On the one hand, getting out of these jeans without help right now would be insanely annoying. It had been hard enough to wriggle himself into them this morning; he had no desire to fight his way out of a pair of sopping wet jeans, particularly when his fingers felt like icicles.

But on the other hand, Francis himself was annoying. He adored teasing Arthur, particularly when it involved his (mostly non-existent) love life, and if he found out about his date tonight… He would spend the rest of the evening tormenting him and being a general nuisance while Arthur tried desperately to mentally prepare himself for the evening.

"Ah, Arthur! You're back!"

When you got right down to it, though, it didn't matter whether he wanted his roommate here or not. The universe never asked for his opinion.

Francis stepped out of the kitchen, wearing the stupid 'Kiss the Cook' apron that one of his friends gave him for a gag gift a few Christmases ago. He was smiling like an idiot, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and hands covered in flour.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to. Emilie is here tonight, so try to be on your best behaviour, mon ami." He winked and started to turn back toward the kitchen, but then he stopped as he seemed to notice that Arthur was fucking _soaked_. His eyes widened and then he sighed, entire body seeming to slump. "Cher, did you fall out of your chair _again_?"

Arthur shot right into defensive mode. "Not my fucking fault. That van…"

He interrupted him, giving him an annoyingly long-suffering look. "You need to look into getting that fixed, mon ami. One of these days you're going to get hurt." He glanced back toward the kitchen. "Do you need my help to get changed?"

Yes, although he hated to admit it. He was slowly starting to warm up, but his fingers still felt cold and clumsy.

Francis took his silence as a 'yes' and nodded. "All right. Let me just set Emilie up with a movie and I'll help you."

"Why's she here tonight anyway? I thought next week was your weekend."

His roommate shrugged. "Christine called this morning and said that Richard was coming down for the weekend, so she asked if I'd mind taking Emilie now. I said it was fine."

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "She's still dating that prick?"

And Francis's own expression meant that he agreed with the sentiment. "It's her choice."

Yeah, but it was Francis's kid that the guy was potentially going to be raising. Arthur honestly didn't mind Christine herself. She was pretty flighty, disorganized, kind of shallow and self-centered, and obviously had terrible taste in men. But she was trying to raise Emilie as well as she could and the fact that she and Francis managed to be pleasant to each other and not drag this into some horrible custody battle was refreshing.

But Christ, did he _hate_ this new Richard fellow. He was just an egotistical wanker who didn't pay nearly enough attention to Emilie and who'd always stand there and _stare_ at him when he and Christine came to drop Emilie off. It was like he thought he was at a bloody freak show and Arthur was going to start doing tricks for him.

Francis just shrugged at his comment and headed back into the kitchen while Arthur turned and rolled himself down the hallway to his bedroom.

Where he allowed his thoughts to drift to this evening.

Alfred Jones.

He still could barely believe it. Alfred Jones had asked _him_ on a date. Not only had he asked him on a date, but he'd actually seemed _excited_ that he said yes. Honestly, Arthur would probably have convinced himself that this was just a pity date if he hadn't seen how Alfred did that ridiculous 'fist-pump' when he thought Arthur wasn't looking.

He had to resist the urge to squeal again and instead turned his mind to more important matters. Like what he should wear tonight.

Nothing that he owned felt appropriate. His 'style' mainly consisted of button-up-shirts, sweater-vests, what Francis called 'old man clothes'… The frog always lamented his lack of fashion, which Arthur normally would brush off because it's not like he'd ever want to dress like _that_ git. He spent more time on his appearance then ninety percent of the girls that Arthur knew.

But right now he kind of wished he'd taken his roommate up on his many offers to take him shopping and help him 'spice up' his wardrobe. Everything just seemed… boring and dowdy and not even close to appropriate for a date with Alfred.

Although, his brain helpfully supplied, Alfred was the type of person who always came to school in loose-fitting trousers and a grubby T-shirt or hoodie. So why in the world was he worrying about what _he_ wore? Alfred was the type of person who probably wouldn't even _notice_ if Arthur tried to dress nicely.

Plus, they were going to a basketball game.

He frowned as he thought about that. He'd never been to a basketball game before and he honestly had no idea what the dress code was for that type of environment.

"So, are you going to tell me what has you in such a good mood, mon ami?"

And damn that fucking frog to _hell_. Arthur jerked at the sudden comment and spun himself around to face the doorway, where Francis was leaning and _smirking_ at him. His grin only grew more irritating as he crossed the room to stand in front of him.

Arthur sent him his most scathing look. "What makes you think I'm in a bloody good mood?"

"Cher, you fell in the snow. You're soaked and those jeans are probably ruined. If you _weren't_ in an exceptionally good mood for some reason, you would be throwing a temper tantrum the likes of which the world has never seen." He tilted his head to the side and his grin somehow managed to grow even more smug. "So, as they say, 'spill'. What happened?"

Fuck Francis. Why did Arthur live with this git again? The two of them had known each other since childhood, so he'd definitely known what he was getting into when he agreed to the arrangement. It'd just been desperation. If he'd had to spend another week in that house—with his parents constantly babying him and treating him like he was helpless—then he would have gone insane. Even living with this annoying, nosy twit was better than _that_.

"Nothing happened," he muttered before suddenly rolling forward, right over Francis's toes.

The curses of irritation were music to his ears. He grinned to himself as he rolled over to the bed and then glanced back to his irritated roommate. "Might want to keep your voice down. Don't want Emilie to hear that kind of language."

The look that Francis sent him was one of those 'if looks could kill' glares, but he did stop with his tirade.

It honestly probably wasn't in Arthur's best interest to be antagonizing the person who was going to be carrying him in a matter of moments, but eh… Since when did Arthur listen to that kind of logic? It wasn't like Francis was the type of person who'd do something like purposely drop him as revenge. He would just have to keep an eye on his food for things like hot peppers for the next couple days.

"You're such an ass," Francis muttered to himself. "Scoot forward."

Arthur obeyed, waiting as Francis slipped one arm behind his back and the other underneath his legs.

"All right, I'm going to lift you now."

He nodded. And as annoying as Francis was, _that_ was at least something he appreciated. His parents had never, in his entire life, actually asked if he was all right with being picked up. They'd always just done it without even bothering to give him a warning. He remembered being a little kid and having dozens of dizzying moments when he'd just find himself lifted into the air and transferred from one place to another like he was a fucking doll or something.

Francis never did that. He was also careful to not jostle him; he just lifted him and then settled him on the bed, propped up against his mound of pillows.

And then pinched his arm as hard as he possibly could.

"Ow!"

"That is for running over my _foot_ , mon cher."

Jesus fucking… Arthur yanked his arm out of reach, glancing down at the rapidly-reddening area. "Do you _ever_ cut your nails?"

Francis ignored the question, of course, and instead sat down at the end of Arthur's bed and began unlacing his sneakers. "So, as repayment for nearly breaking my foot, you're going to tell me what happened today, oui?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I didn't 'almost break your foot'. And no, I'm not telling you. It's none of your business anyway." Although honestly, he had no doubt that the idiot would find out whether Arthur told him or not.

" _Cher_ ," Also, the git was not above whining until he got his way. " _Tell me_ ~"

Arthur groaned and allowed his head to fall back against the pillows. God, he didn't have the energy to deal with Francis. He had to get rid of the git anyway so he could get ready for his date. "Fine. Just help me get these fucking trousers off." They were cold and wet and uncomfortable and despite his general dislike for having anyone babying him, he just wanted the stupid things off.

Francis was grinning like an idiot now, obviously pleased that he'd won so easily. Bastard at least knew enough to obey Arthur's order, though. He tugged the filthy socks off his feet and then moved to the jeans. "So, what happened?" he asked as he undid the button and then began to peel the soaked fabric down his legs.

"Have I ever told you that you're fucking _annoying_?" He wanted to smack the idiot, but Francis had moved out of range and now he just laughed as he balled up the denim and tossed it onto the floor. He'd better be planning on picking that up later.

"I was at Walmart and I fell out of my chair because that ramp is shit," Arthur started.

But then Francis immediately interrupted him. "I told you that you need to look into getting it fixed almost a month ago." He'd moved Arthur's foot into his lap and was now rubbing at his toes. "Your skin is freezing. At least you were intelligent enough to come straight home before you got frostbite."

Arthur glared at him. "You're the one who wants to hear this story, so shut up. Anyway, I was sitting on my ass in the snow and this cuntbag across the parking lot is just staring at me like I'm his entertainment for the day. And then…" He hesitated, but then decided he wasn't going to get any peace until he told Francis exactly what happened. "Anyway, so then Alfred Jones showed up."

He tried to say it with as little emotion as possible, but Francis's eyes immediately lit up in recognition of the name. "Alfred _Jones_? The Alfred Jones that you have been lusting after since middle school, mon ami? _That_ Alfred Jones?"

Arthur chucked a pillow at Francis's face in response. He knows his own face is probably bright red right now. "Shut the fuck up, frog."

"Ah, cher~ So _that's_ why you're in such a good mood. Did he swoop in and rescue the damsel in distress? Did he give you a kiss?" And this was why Arthur didn't want to tell him, because he's never going to shut up about this.

"Of course not, you bloody idiot." Well, not exactly at least. He had swooped down and helped him back into his chair, but he wasn't a fucking damsel in distress. "He was a gentleman and helped me back into my chair and then he may have offered to take me to dinner and a basketball game tonight."

His attempt at making it sound like he really couldn't care less was probably ruined by the fact that he was having trouble schooling his expression into the proper nonchalance. He turned his face away, huffing. "Anyway, so that's all that happened."

Francis looked like Christmas just came early. For some reason that Arthur couldn't understand because it's not like _he_ was the one who got asked out.

"Ah, cher! How _romantic_! I'm so proud! My grumpy little roommate finally has a _date_!" And suddenly he jumped off the bed. "Don't worry, mon ami! I know that you're hopeless when it comes to fashion, but I will make sure that you knock him right off his feet!"

Arthur didn't even have the chance to tell him to fuck off before he…well, fucked off. The git didn't even bother to help him back into his chair; he just raced out of the room like something was chasing him. Arthur had no doubt that he'd be returning soon with a pile of clothing that he would rather engulf in flames than allow to touch his body.

For a moment he just lay there, kind of startled by his sudden disappearance. Then he groaned because _why_? Why in the _world_ couldn't he live with someone who wasn't a total wanker?

Transferring between his bed and wheelchair without assistance was always an adventure, but by this point he'd at least done it enough times that he could focus on other things at the same time. Which may not be a good thing right now, as his thoughts immediately returned to speculations and worries about tonight.

There were so many ways he could potentially embarrass himself in front of his long-time crush. Alfred Jones was one of those people who others were drawn to like moths to candle flame and Arthur was—well, Arthur. He honestly couldn't understand why in the world the git would even _want_ to ask him out if it wasn't just a stupid pity date.

Christ, he'd been crushing on him for so long. Alfred was like… the human personification of sunshine. He had that gorgeous golden hair and tanned skin and gorgeous abs and perfect teeth and eyes the exact shade of a cloudless afternoon. And personality-wise… Yeah, he was loud and obnoxious and he had terrible habits when it came to clothing and food and he talked out of turn and Arthur wasn't entirely sure _why_ all of that made him so attractive.

Probably had something to do with how insanely _nice_ he was. Most people had avoided Arthur back then—he was the guy known throughout school as 'the kid in the wheelchair with the nasty personality'—which was a moniker he maybe deserved back then… But Alfred had always graced him with one of his smiles when they passed in the hallway and held the door open for him without being obnoxious about it. And Arthur had kind of fallen for him even though he knew it was totally stupid.

He honestly spent most of middle school avoiding the other boy and had felt equally relieved and disappointed when the two of them ended up going to high schools in totally different areas of the city. He'd still seen him, though. At the sports games that Arthur would forever deny attending. Alfred was on the American football team, the baseball team, and his brother was on the hockey team, so he always attended those games as well.

And since Alfred was there, Arthur often went as well. He'd make excuses, but Francis would always laugh at him and say how transparent he was.

Then, he'd graduated from high school and decided to stay in the city for college. He'd gotten multiple scholarships to Merrleton University and he honestly found himself reluctant to move from his cozy, totally accessible apartment—his reluctance had nothing to do with Francis, either, so don't even _start_.

He absolutely had not expected to look across the auditorium during freshman orientation and see _Alfred_ sitting among the crowd, already seemingly engaged in making friends with the obviously-shy Asian boy seated next him. For a moment, Arthur had honestly wondered if he was going crazy and seeing things, because _how_?

But he wasn't going crazy, Alfred Jones had decided to attend the same exact college as him. Granted, he rarely saw him after that first day since his major was English and Alfred's was something science-related. But still... Their university wasn't _that_ big. Apparently Alfred had noticed him enough to want to ask him on a date.

A date which he really needed to prepare for…

A shower was the first order of business. Then he could at least _attempt_ to make himself look appealing, which would probably be easier if he had some idea of what Alfred found attractive. He couldn't do anything about his eyebrows and his hair was a lost cause and there was no fucking way that he was wearing anything belonging to Francis despite his own lack of a 'fashion sense'…

And he was starting to depress himself.

Arthur shook that thought right out of his head as he rolled himself into his bathroom. Fuck that. He wasn't going to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He had a date with Alfred Jones and if the git had an issue with his eyebrows or anything along those lines, then obviously he wasn't the type of person that Arthur thought he was.

"Okay, Arthur." He was alone, so it was okay to do the out-loud pep talk as he finally shucked the rest of his clothing and then moved himself into his transfer seat. "There's nothing to worry about. It's just a date. You've been on dates before…" Not in a long time, but this wasn't a _totally_ new experience.

The sensation of the warm water against his skin was relaxing, as if all of his stress, panic, and the memory of his earlier almost-freezing experience was being washed right down the drain. He could stay under the spray for hours—and had on a couple occasions after falling asleep—but he didn't have time for that tonight, so he only allowed himself to soak up the warmth for a few minutes before he moved on to washing himself.

He could hear his idiot roommate in his room after he turned the spray off. He couldn't exactly hear what he was saying, but he could hear the sound of his voice rambling about something. Arthur rolled his eyes as he dried himself and then pulled on his bathrobe. If only he could just escape or maybe lock Francis up somewhere for the evening. But Emilie was here and he rather doubted that she'd be happy if he did anything to her father.

"Git, get out of my room," he said as he re-entered his bedroom.

Both Francis and the giant pile of clothing that was currently covering his bed proceeded to ignore him. The little girl seated on top of the giant pile of clothing didn't.

"Uncle Artie!" She slid down the mound, taking half of the clothing with her before Francis could move to actually help her down. "Uncle Artie!"

You know, as annoying as Francis was, Arthur was more than willing to tolerate his existence if it meant that he could have Emilie in his life. She reminded him of Alfred in a way, all sunshine and bright smiles. He couldn't help the grin that crossed his lips as she ran to stand beside his chair and leaned over as far as she could to give him a hug.

"Hello, Emilie."

"Uncle Artie going on date!" She exclaimed, clapping her little hands together.

Goddamnit, Francis. He lifted his head from the happy four-year-old to glare at her father, who just winked back before he returned his own attention to the little girl. "Ma petite, we need to make sure that Arthur's ready for his date. Why don't you help him pick out an outfit?"

God-fucking- _damnit_ , Francis. He should have guessed that the bastard would fight dirty. He knew that Arthur couldn't say no to Emilie, who had lit up and nodded before hurrying back to the pile of Francis's clothing. She immediately began digging through it like a crazy woman, while Francis met Arthur's eyes over her head and laughed at the furious glare that met his and promised all of the pain in the world.

The bastard didn't even respond outside of that laugh. "I'm going to start making dinner for us, Emilie. Can I trust you to make sure that Arthur looks pretty for his date tonight?"

"Uh huh, Papa!" She tugged a hot pink shirt from the pile—about half of Francis's closet came from the women's sections of his favourite stories and _of course_ he'd add those articles of clothing to the pile—and turned it back and forth in front of her face with an expression of intense concentration. It seemed to pass her inspection as she nodded and then set it on the floor beside her feet.

Arthur rolled himself closer to Francis while the other was watching his daughter's antics and punched his hip to get his attention. Rather pleased by the wince and startled yelp and then annoyed glare that the bastard sent him in response. Arthur motioned for him to move closer, which he did after a moment, bending down to be on his very annoyed roommate's level.

Arthur made sure to keep his voice soft enough that the very-distracted Emilie wouldn't hear him. "I am going to _kill_ you," he hissed. "I am going to slit your throat in your sleep one of these days."

Francis just smiled and then laughed. "I love you too, mon cher." Then he jumped backwards before Arthur could smack him or run over his foot again. "Don't worry about anything, Emilie has a wonderful sense of style, so you'll definitely look perfect for your date!"

And then he darted from the room again, leaving Arthur with a little four-year-old fashionista. A four-year-old fashionista who unfortunately had inherited her father's stubbornness and who he knew was not going to rest until she helped him find the 'perfect' outfit for his date.

God _damn_ Francis.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred's twin brother, Matthew, was always getting on his case about how he didn't think before he acted. It was probably pretty close to the top of his seriously long list of 'things about Alfred that drive me insane'. Right behind the fact that he never remembered to replace the toilet roll after he'd finished it. Which dude, you'd think he was murdering people with how pissed off Mattie got when he did that.

But today, Alfred had proven that there was nothing wrong with not thinking before you acted, so 'in your _face_ , Matt!' Alfred Jones' spontaneity had just paid off in the most amazing way possible.

Because he now had a date planned for tonight with _Arthur Kirkland_.

Seriously, it was like fate itself had smiled down on him, 'cause he shouldn't even have been in that Walmart parking lot in the first place. It was one of those rare weekends when he didn't have much to do. He was actually caught up on his work for once and all the important exams were far enough away that he didn't feel any need to start studying yet. So he'd been planning on spending the next three days locked in his bedroom, playing video games until his eyeballs fell out of their sockets.

But then he'd gone downstairs this morning and found Matt sitting at the kitchen table with an apologetic expression and a freshly-brewed mug of coffee that he immediately offered his brother.

"I'll pay to replace it," was the first thing he said. Then he sighed and explained what happened. Apparently Gilbert, his boyfriend and their occasional third roommate, had discovered Alfred's secret snack stash the night before and—after he proceeded to _not_ tell Mattie where the snacks came from—the two of them ended up decimating his supply.

Seriously, Gil was one of those guys who was the coolest bro ever half of the time, but then did something like _this_ that made you want to punch him in the face. If it hadn't been for the pleading kicked-puppy-dog look that Mattie sent him and the fact that Alfred was too much of a hero to slug a legally blind guy, he probably would've gone and kicked the douchebag's ass right then and there.

Instead, he'd just grumbled to himself and drank Matt's apology coffee. Then he'd bundled up and made his way to Walmart with his brother's credit card in hand.

Where he found Arthur struggling in the slush, his wheelchair overturned beside his van. Alfred had immediately run over, asked if he needed help, and returned him to his seat.

And seriously, how lucky could you get? Well, it wasn't lucky that Arthur fell, but Alfred shouldn't have even _been_ there. What if the guy had fallen out of his chair without a hero around to help him? He could've frozen to death!

Alfred was grinning to himself as he turned the doorknob to his and Mattie's apartment. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, his arms currently occupied by half a dozen grocery bags stuffed with junk food.

"Yo, Mattie!" He called out. "Guess what hap—?"

But he was interrupted by a voice shouting back to him, "Dude, where have you been? You get any beer? We're totally out."

Had Alfred mentioned yet that Gilbert was a dick?

His smile gradually faded as he walked into the living room, to find Mattie and Gilbert sitting together on the couch. Mattie was seated upright, his and Al's shared laptop resting on his lap, while Gil was slouched down with his feet up on the coffee table and an open can of beer dangling from his fingertips. He raised the can in Alfred's general direction and shook it. "Totally empty, bro."

There'd been at least four cans in the fridge when he left this morning.

Alfred decided to ignore Gilbert and instead turned his attention to his brother. "Mattie, dude, you'll never guess what happened while I was out!"

Mattie had been fiddling with his laptop, used to Alfred and Gilbert's bickering, but he glanced up at that question. "What happened?"

Alfred pointed his fingers toward himself and grinned excitedly. "I was a total hero! I was at Walmart in the parking lot and I noticed a wheelchair tipped over, so I went over to rescue the person and it was Arthur! I helped him up and everything and then…" He paused for dramatic effect. "Your super cool brother got a date out of it!"

Mattie didn't respond immediately, which was rather disappointing. Alfred had been hoping that Mattie would say something like, "Wow, Alfred, I am impressed with your mad skills with the dudes. I feel so jealous because I do not have these skills, as proven by the fact that I'm currently dating a douche who's uncool enough to eat another bro's snacks."

Eventually, he said, "Huh, well, congratulations."

"Isn't Arthur Kirkland the guy who you cried over in high school because you thought he was into Birdie? 'Cause he kept showing up at his hockey games or whatever it was?"

Maybe he should have waited until Gilbert was gone to share his news with Matthew.

He hadn't cried, anyway! And it was a reasonable assumption to make! Arthur tended to stick out in crowds, so it wasn't long before Alfred started noticing him amongst the stands at every single one of Matthew's hockey games. At first he hadn't thought much about it, because maybe the guy just really liked hockey? But then he'd overheard one of the girls from his and Arthur's old middle school talking with one of her friends about Artie… "Wonder what _he's_ doing here. Doesn't he hate sports?"

Her friend had responded with a weird giggle and then said, "Isn't he like super gay? Maybe he's checking out one of the players?"

He hadn't heard anything else, since his brain had kind of short-circuited at that. Arthur was _gay_?

That had sent an immediate jolt of hope through Alfred's chest, because he kind of had been crushing on Arthur for ages now. He'd always just assumed the guy was straight, though, 'cause Alfred _always_ ended up crushing on the straight guys.

But then his mind passed along to the second part of her statement. _'Checking out one of the players?'_

It'd make sense. Why else would Artie attend every single hockey game if he didn't like sports? Alfred started engaging in super stealthy espionage to try to uncover Arthur's secret. And eventually arrived at the conclusion that Arthur had to be here for _Matthew_. He was the one Arthur was generally looking at; most of the time Alfred would look over to see Arthur staring back at him and then immediately turn his attention back to Matthew.

It…had been a pretty sucky realization. Particularly since Matthew and Gilbert weren't actually dating at the time, so there really wasn't anything keeping the two of them apart. A good brother wouldn't stand in the way of his sibling's happiness.

So he'd sucked up his own feelings, stomped into Matthew's room one evening, and told his rather-startled brother that he was extremely happy for him!

That was one of those 'didn't stop to think' moments, since Mattie told him—once he figured out what Alfred was talking about—that he wasn't at all interested in Arthur.

Yeah, that'd been kind of an awkward moment. Especially when Matthew went all turncoat on him and told his then-best-friend Gilbert about the whole affair; Gil hadn't stopped teasing Alfred about it for _months_. And obviously he'd never entirely forgotten.

"Shut up," Alfred said.

Gilbert immediately threw his head back and cackled, then elbowed Mattie in the side. "Is he blushing? Tell me he's blushing."

Matthew ignored him. "That's really great, Al. Where are you guys going?"

Alfred puffed up proudly. "I'm taking him to Mathias's game and we're gonna stop at Micky D's beforehand." It was the perfect plan.

Or at least, that's what Alfred thought. But Matthew immediately grimaced at his statement and Gil snorted, which was usually a sign that he'd done something that they both thought was stupid. He tensed slightly. "Wait, what's wrong with that?"

Matthew shook his head. "Alfred, I don't think that McDonald's is really date-appropriate. A basketball game seems nice, but don't you think it'd be nice to take him somewhere a little…" He hesitated, "Classier?"

Like one of those shirt and tie places? Those restaurants were super lame, though. He'd gone once with his family to celebrate his grandpa's ninetieth birthday and it had _sucked_. The clothing itched, everybody expected you to act all prim and proper, and the meals were crazy expensive, but you barely got any food at all!

Mattie seemed to realize where his thoughts were going, though, as he stated, "I'm not saying you have to take him to a five-star restaurant or anything, but maybe a nice café?"

"No way, you gotta take him clubbing!" Gilbert threw his arm around Matthew's shoulders. "That's how you show a guy a good time!"

Matthew snorted at the comment, shaking his head at Alfred and mouthing 'don't listen to him.' Like Alfred would anyway. He remembered what happened last time he, Mathias, Mattie, and Gil went clubbing. Sure, the beginning of the night had been fun. Drinking, dancing, all that stuff. But then Matthew managed to lose Gil in the crowd and they'd spent the rest of the night freaking out while trying to find him.

Alfred had ended up being the one to finally locate him, gyrating in the middle of the dance floor, apparently without a care in the world. He'd grabbed him in order to drag him back to his brother when the guy turned and flashed him a tipsy grin, called out "Birdie!" and then reached forward andgrabbed his _dick_.

And dude, it really wasn't fair that Mattie ended up yelling at _him._ It wasn't like he'd meant to sock his boyfriend; it was an instinctual response. And he'd felt bad enough about it without having to get scolded. Gil had just mistaken him for Matthew. Hell, it happened all the time with their friends with normal vision.

Gilbert wasn't entirely blind—he'd told Alfred that he could see colours and vague shapes and he could even read with this special magnifying glass. And he could tell Alfred and Matthew apart in a normal environment without even needing to lay eyes on them. He could tell by their footsteps or smell or whatever. In a dark environment, though, surrounded by bright lights and moving people…wasn't really shocking that he'd mistaken him for his twin brother.

So yeah, no clubs. Alfred didn't really think that Arthur would be that type of guy anyway.

"What about that bar on Allenwood Street? _Merge_?" Matthew offered. He was leaning into Gilbert's embrace, which meant Alfred should really get out of here before he was forced to witness his brother and friend _cuddling_ , which was always a mildly traumatic experience. "Don't they have good food?"

"Their beer's shit." Gilbert wrinkled his nose slightly at the thought. "They've got fucking _awesome_ burgers, though. And Toni likes their margaritas."

Alfred had immediately perked up at the word 'burgers'. "That sounds good." He didn't really care that much about the quality of their beer—plus, Gilbert's standards were crazy high anyway, so it might not even be that bad—and he supposed that McDonald's might not be _quite_ high class enough for a legitimate date with Arthur Kirkland.

Which, that thought brought him back to reality. He had a date with Arthur Kirkland. And he wasn't even _close_ to being ready. He still needed to shower and get dressed…

"All right, cool, I'm gonna get ready now." And he immediately turned and hurried toward the bathroom.

He thought he heard Gilbert say, "Finally. Now, did you get the pigeon game started yet?" But honestly, he really didn't want to know.

All right, so he had to think this through. Arthur was the type of guy who always dressed pretty nicely—kinda old-man style, but it looked good on him—so Alfred should probably put a bit more work into his appearance than usual. He wanted to impress him and according to most people, that was _not_ going to be easy.

Alfred grinned to himself as he entered the bathroom and prepared his shower, hopping in as soon as the water was warm enough. That fact didn't bother him at all, though. He wasn't intimidated by challenges.

He hadn't been able to interact with Arthur as much as he'd like, but everything that he'd seen and heard made him want to get to know the guy better. They'd attended the same middle school and, of course, everyone knew at least _of_ Arthur. He was the only kid in their school in a wheelchair. There were plenty of rumours flying around about him, most people said he had a pretty nasty personality.

He and Alfred had ended up in the same English class, though. And Alfred, at first, hadn't really paid much attention to him. He was more interested in figuring out ways to chat with his friends without getting caught by the teacher.

But then they'd been partnered together on a project—probably solely to keep Alfred away from his friends—and Alfred had found himself intrigued by the other. They were supposed to be creating a poster or something… Alfred hadn't cared enough to pay attention to the instructions. Arthur had immediately relegated him to design, apparently not trusting him with the content.

He wasn't even entirely sure what it was about Arthur that intrigued him so much. He _was_ grumpy and they hadn't talked much, Alfred uncharacteristically unsure of his words. Maybe it was the way he scrunched his massive eyebrows while he worked or those incredibly green eyes…

Whatever it was, so had begun Alfred's first major crush. He'd started listening to the rumors surrounding Arthur. Apparently he was crazy smart, a fact which Alfred could guess at after listening to him talk in that one class. He was pretty sure that Arthur knew more about English literature than even their _teacher_. And while a lot of people commented on his personality as being pretty nasty, others said he wasn't that bad. He had a bit of a short fuse, but it seemed more related to frustration that anything else.

And Alfred really couldn't blame him for that. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose the ability to walk and run and play sports... He'd always loved sports more than anything else. And Alfred had also noticed the way that people stared at the boy in the hallways.

He'd been friends with Gilbert since elementary school and he'd already noticed that people acted differently around his friend once they realized he was blind. Sometimes they'd start talking really slowly or adults would reach out and grab his arm to 'help' him around obstacles.

Pft, if people thought Arthur's responses were bad, they would never be able to handle Gilbert. He always flipped the fuck _out_ when strangers touched him without asking.

So Alfred figured that people's comments on Arthur's personality had more to do with _that_ than with him actually being a nasty person. He didn't seem mean. Actually, the more Alfred paid attention to him, the more he realized that he was actually a very kind person. Just maybe a little shy and sarcastic and frustrated.

Then they'd gone to different high schools and Alfred almost forgot about him, until that day when he'd noticed him sitting in the stands at Mattie's hockey game and all those fluffy crush feelings decided to return with a _vengeance._

It was really incredible. It'd been so many years and suddenly Alfred ran into him like _this_? In a Walmart parking lot?

He'd been washing himself while deep in thought and now grinned to himself as he let the warm water wash all the suds and dirt away. Somebody was looking out for him maybe? Somebody was telling him to finally get over himself and just ask the guy out?

Alfred had known better than to let the opportunity escape him and now he had a date with Arthur Kirkland. They'd have the chance to get to know each other better. If Alfred was able to impress him, then maybe this could be the start of something…

Impressing him would be difficult, though. That's what he needed to think about right now. He turned the spray off and exited the shower, began drying himself, and then wrapped the fluffy yellow towel around his waist.

He knew that Arthur liked literature—or at least he had in middle school. He remembered how Arthur almost got into a fight with the teacher about _Romeo and Juliet_. Unfortunately, that wasn't really something Alfred knew much about.

At least, not that type of literature. He liked reading sci-fi and he'd read _War of the Worlds_ and _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,_ _Brave New World_ and _Slaughterhouse-Five_ …

Alfred wasn't sure what type of books Arthur liked. It seemed like there was potential there for Alfred to make a fool of himself, so it might be better to remain on safer topics. Although, what safer topics were there? There was hockey, but Alfred had never really established why Arthur was attending Mattie's games. Matthew wasn't interested in Arthur, but that didn't mean that _Arthur_ wasn't interested in _Matthew._

That thought actually made Alfred pause with his hand hovering halfway between him and the bathroom door.

He hadn't even stopped to think about that.

It was entirely possible that Arthur was into Matthew. Maybe he'd only agreed to this date because Alfred was Matthew's brother; maybe it even had to do with the fact that they were twins.

Fuck.

What if this was a replacement thing? Or maybe he wanted Alfred to help him get with Mattie? Arthur wouldn't know that he was already dating somebody… Maybe he'd only agreed to be nice, or maybe he didn't even _realize_ this was a date and he thought they were just getting together as, like, friends or something.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

What should he do? He shoved open the door and made his way down to his bedroom, ignoring the cackles coming from the living room as he considered his potential courses of action.

Okay, so Arthur may like Mattie, but Matthew was already dating Gilbert _and_ he said that he wasn't interested in Arthur anyway. So even if Arthur _did_ like Mattie, it'd never work out between them. So obviously, as the hero, Alfred should do everything in his power to change Arthur's mind and make him realize that _they_ should date instead.

He nodded to himself as he let the towel drop and headed over to his dresser. This was going to be the best date of Arthur's life or his name wasn't Alfred Fucking Jones.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur wondered how receptive Christine would be to the idea of him continuing to be Emilie's 'uncle' after Francis's unfortunate demise. He'd have to ask her next time he saw her, because his roommate was going to die and he was going to die _soon_.

"Oh, you did such a good job, Emilie! He looks so handsome!"

The little girl lit up at the praise and immediately ran to her father, squealing happily as he lifted her into the air and then gave her a kiss on both cheeks before lowering her back to the ground.

Arthur couldn't say anything with Emilie here, but he didn't need to speak to make his intentions clear. He glared at Francis with a hatred that could have melted steel. Francis just smiled back, tilting his head as if to ask why in the _world_ Arthur was upset.

Like the bastard didn't know. Arthur was currently dressed in his clothes: a pair of dark purple jeans, black leather boots, and a light blue sweater with a giant teddy bear face on the front. It was mortifying; he felt embarrassed just sitting here in front of _Francis_ right now. He had to change into something else before Alfred showed up, but if he did, then Emilie would cry.

More and more proof that his roommate was the devil incarnate.

Alfred was going to show up any moment now and Arthur wasn't even close to prepared. At least, not emotionally. What if he did something stupid? Or said something insulting? He knew he had a pretty unappealing personality; what if Alfred realized that he'd made a mistake by asking him out?

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of Francis clearing his throat. He flashed Arthur a smile and then gave Emilie a pat on the head, "Ma petite, why don't you go watch the door for Uncle Arthur's date? I'm going to help him finish getting ready."

She immediately nodded and ran off, curls bouncing behind her as she moved on to her next assigned task.

Arthur immediately sent his constant annoyance a suspicious glare. "What are you up to, frog?"

Which Francis answered with a smirk. "I don't know what you could possibly mean, cher." He flounced over to Arthur's bed, cleared a spot, and sat down amidst the discarded articles of clothing. He settled his chin in his hands and _stared_ at him.

It was weird. Also creepy. Arthur stared back for a moment and then sighed and rolled himself toward the bed. Might as well get it over with—whatever _it_ was.

Francis continued smiling like a creeper. "So, you're about to go on a date with Alfred Jones. Have you thought of a plan of attack, mon ami?"

"It's a date, idiot. I'm not going into battle."

Francis immediately shook his head. "That is where you are wrong, mon cher. 'Love is a battlefield', that is a song title, oui? It is also a very true statement. You should think about what you are going to do on this date to win the heart of Alfred Jones."

Goddamnit, Francis. As if he weren't worried enough about the millions of potential ways he could fuck this up. "I'm not going to do anything _you_ suggest," he stated with definite annoyance.

Francis had the gall to actually look hurt by that. "I was only going to suggest, Arthur, that you try to show Alfred your more…agreeable side. Try not to argue with him or insult his tastes or run over his _foot_. I know that, as much as you try to hide it, there are aspects of yourself that can be appealing."

That wasn't something Arthur had ever expected to hear Francis say.

His bewilderment must have shown on his face, because Francis responded with laughter. "I said there are 'aspects', I'm not saying that I'm madly in love with you or anything like that."

Ew. Arthur shuddered at the thought. "Don't even joke about that."

His roommate rolled his eyes and made a motion for Arthur to come closer. He did after a moment's hesitation. Francis reached out and combed his fingers through the other's hair. "I suppose that's the best we can hope for," he sighed after a few moments. "I can't understand how you always manage to make your hair look like a frightened haystack."

Arthur sent him another annoyed glare. "I can't believe you sicked your _daughter_ on me. I look ridiculous."

"You look adorable. Besides, now you have an excuse. If Alfred says something about your outfit, you can say that your little niece wanted you to wear it. He seems like the family type, so showing that you're good with children is only going to make him want you more."

Annoying, meddlesome bastard. He was probably right, though. Arthur had seen Alfred with kids on a few different occasions, usually after sports games when children from the crowd would want to go out and see the star athlete. He was always smiling and laughing with them; he'd sometimes lift them on his shoulder or let them swing his bat or wear his baseball cap.

And that was when he was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of the doorbell. Immediately followed by a child's shout of "I get it!"

Francis was immediately on his feet and headed toward the door before Arthur had to a chance to stop him. One of the many annoying things about being stuck in a chair; he was so much _slower_ than everyone else. Which was a major problem in this particular situation.

Because as he rolled out of the room, moving as quickly as he could, he could hear Francis's voice. And he was talking to _Alfred._

"Bonjour! So you are the Alfred Jones I've heard so much about."

"And you're Arthur's roommate?"

"Oui. I'm Francis Bonnefoy." Arthur could see him, standing in the doorway with Emilie peeking out at the newcomer from behind her father's legs. She was an odd little thing. She was generally very exuberant and outgoing, but sometimes she'd get struck by shyness.

Alfred bent down so he was closer to her level and flashed the girl a bright smile. "And what's your name?"

She stared at him with a rather unsure expression, but then said, "Emilie."

"That's a nice name! My name's Alfred."

The introduction seemed to help assuage her nervousness, as she took a slight step away from her hiding place and looked up at him, then asked, "You taking Uncle Arthur on date?"

And Arthur really needed to step in before somebody said something embarrassing. He rolled himself into sight, capturing Alfred's attention. He immediately smiled brightly and Arthur's stomach decided to do a rather mortifying flip in response. "Hi, Arthur!"

"Hello." He rolled to the door; Francis at least was intelligent to move out of the way. "Are you ready to go?"

He'd rather Alfred spend as little time interacting with Francis as possible. Although it probably sounded rather rude. He just really didn't want his roommate to say something embarrassing that would ruin his chances with the guy he'd been crushing on for years.

Alfred at least didn't _look_ like he considered it horribly rude. He just continued smiling and then returned his gaze to Emilie. "Yep! I'm taking your Uncle Arthur on a date!"

That made Arthur turn bright red. Of course, he'd _known_ it was a date, but it was different hearing him saying it in front of other people. Even when one of said other people was a four-year-old who probably didn't really understand what a 'date' even was.

Then again, her father was _Francis_ , so maybe she did.

She suddenly took a step fully away from her father and moved to stand beside Arthur, setting her hand on his armrest. Her expression was surprisingly fierce for a little girl, as if she were going into battle. Francis looked like he was trying not to burst into laughter.

"You can take Uncle Arthur on date," she began. "But only if you promise to be really really nice! And you have to make sure you help him if his chair gets stuck in the snow like Papa does!"

Oh God.

Alfred stared at her with a slightly surprised expression, but then he smiled again. "No worries about that! I promise I'll take really good care of your uncle!"

Arthur knew that his face had to be bright red right now. He felt like he was a teenage girl with her dad giving her potential boyfriend the shotgun talk. Except Emilie somehow managed to be even _more_ intimidating.

"Mmk," she said, returning to her father's side.

Francis looked like he was finding it legitimately painful to keep from laughing hysterically, but he managed it. He ruffled Emilie's hair. "Good job, ma petite. We have to make sure that Monsieur Alfred is going to take care of cher Arthur, oui?"

She nodded and hugged his leg again.

Francis glanced back to Arthur and made a tiny motion with his head towards Alfred. Arthur flushed, but immediately moved forward. "Well, let's get on with it."

"Have fun, mon ami! Text me if any plans change!" He winked in a way that let Arthur know _exactly_ what he was insinuating. Annoying perverted bastard.

At least Alfred hadn't noticed. He'd turned at Arthur's remark and returned to their porch, where he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the railing in a way that make Arthur think of a model posing for a shoot.

Francis immediately grabbed Arthur's coat from the rack and used the excuse of handing it to him to lean down and say, "Just relax, cher. If you need to talk to me at any point tonight, just text."

Arthur snorted, but otherwise didn't respond. Never mind that he actually appreciated the comment. He just went through the process of getting his coat on and then rolled forward to join his date in the cold, evening air.

"I'll have him back by midnight," Alfred called back, waving at Francis and Emilie. Arthur just sighed and began making his way down the ramp. Alfred followed, caught up in a few strides, and then walked beside him.

"So she's adorable as all get out."

Arthur nodded, not really sure what to say. "Yeah, she is."

And now began the part of dating that Arthur always dreaded—the awkward small-talk conversations. It was a skill he'd never been able to master; Francis told him that he just needed to get the ball rolling and then it would just flow naturally, but Arthur never knew how to even do that. Talking about the weather seemed cliché and stupid and Francis's methods of showering his dates with compliments seemed insincere. Also, no way was he using any techniques that originated with his roommate.

"So, are you actually her uncle, or…"

"No," definitely not. That would make him and Francis _brothers_. "Francis is just my roommate."

"Ah," Alfred nodded in understanding. "That's still really awesome, though! I just room with my brother and _basically_ his boyfriend… Like, he legit should be paying rent at this point. Anyway, so I figured we could head over to my buddy's game—his name's Mathias, by the way, I'll point him out when we get there—and then there's this bar on Allenwood called _Merge_ that I thought we could go to."

That name sounded vaguely familiar. Although, for some reason, he had been thinking that Alfred said they were going somewhere different when he asked earlier. Not that it mattered, since Arthur would have said yes to _anything_. He probably would even have said it was okay for them to go somewhere like _McDonald's_ …

God, what did that say about him?

Anyway, "That sounds fine." He rolled himself over to the passenger's side door and eyed it. It would be a bit difficult, but nothing he hadn't done before.

Alfred had followed him and was now hovering in that way people generally did when they weren't sure whether they should ask if he needed help or not. Arthur opened the truck door, ignoring him.

Alfred spoke up, though. "Do you need help getting in?"

He actually asked that much nicer than most people did. With most people, any reference to his wheelchair would raise the awkwardness level in the room in a way that he didn't entirely understand. It wasn't like he hadn't heard it all before. "No, just give me a moment."

His parents always freaked out when he transferred himself anywhere, because as far as they were concerned, it would be better for him to spend his entire life completely dependent on them. Francis had been the main person who encouraged him to look into learning how to drive and transfer himself into all kinds of vehicles without relying on anyone else.

It made him feel more comfortable in this moment, as he reached down and then lifted his leg into the truck's interior, before moving his hand to the seat and pushing himself up, grabbing at the assist handle with the other hand. He could sense Alfred still standing nearby, probably waiting to grab him if he slipped.

A part of him considered it for a _split_ second. He still remembered how it felt to have Alfred's hands on him. He was _all_ muscle and radiated a heat that, in retrospect probably was at least partly a result of the fact that he'd been sitting in snow for who-knew-how-long. Even so, though, it'd been way too long since _anyone_ touched him like that who he was actually attracted to and not one of his doctors or his stupid roommate.

Allowing himself to slip wasn't really an option, though. Because if there was one thing Arthur had in _spades,_ it was pride. So he just let himself fall into the seat and then scooted and finagled his legs into their proper place. Then he turned his head, catching a rather impressed look on Alfred's face. "Would you be able to put my chair in the back?"

Alfred started a little, like he'd been so distracted that he forgot what he was doing and quickly said, "Yeah, no problem!" He rolled it around to the back, where Arthur could hear him open the door and then place the chair in the truck bed.

He returned in a few moments and slid into his seat, sending Arthur a quick grin before turning his key in the ignition. "So, I feel like I should warn you that the team sucks. It's still pretty fun to go watch, though!"

Like Arthur cared. He doubted that he'd be spending much time watching the actual game. Not when this irritatingly beautiful golden boy was sitting right beside him.

Arthur wanted to smack himself at that thought. Seriously, just because he was on a date with Alfred Jones didn't mean that he could let himself turn into a sappy idiot. He had to keep his wits about him. He wasn't desperate…

…That was probably a lie. Arthur had liked Alfred for too long to not be desperate, and as annoying as Francis's insinuations were, it wasn't like he could honestly say that he wouldn't jump at the chance to…change plans, as he put it.

Despite that, though, Arthur Kirkland wasn't going to moon over him like he was in an unrealistically cheesy romance novel. This was just a normal date between two guys. It wasn't a big deal. He would be polite, interesting, gentlemanly. This date was going to go well.

"That sweater's pretty cute."

And that comment immediately destroyed all of Arthur's positive thoughts.

He'd actually managed to forget about the abominations that Francis called clothing. He blushed and hurriedly moved his jacket to cover up the giant teddy bear. "It was Emilie's idea…" And how pathetic was it to blame his clothing choice on a four-year-old?

But Alfred laughed. "I figured. Not really your normal style. It is cute, though. Blue's a good colour on you."

Arthur was not blushing because Alfred just complimented him. It was just warm in the truck because Alfred had obviously cranked up the heat too high.

He didn't really stop to think before he jerked his head to the side and glared out the window, making a scoffing sound before muttering, "You're just like my git of a roommate."

Again, he wanted to hit himself, because seriously? What happened to _polite_ and _gentlemanly_?

Alfred glanced at him, looking slightly unsure about whether he was actually upset or not, but then he smiled again. "Sorry. I bet you made her happy, though?"

"Yes, I suppose." He needed to stop being a douche or this date was going to go horribly. He had to think of something to talk about…

But, of course, the only thing that came to mind was, "It's bloody cold." Great job, Arthur. Talking about the weather.

Alfred went with it, though. "Yeah, it's pretty nasty. Mattie loves this kind of weather; I'd rather just hibernate 'til it warms up again."

"Mattie is your brother, correct?" He didn't really need to ask; he remembered Matthew. He and Alfred were twins with personalities as different as night and day. Alfred was the social butterfly, exuberant, always surrounded by friends, while Matthew was quiet, soft-spoken, and kept to himself. That was the impression he gave off, at least. Arthur had seen him on the ice, though, and been rather shocked by the aggressive, rather foul-mouthed individual who replaced the usual Matthew Williams as soon as he strapped a pair of blades to his feet.

The expression Alfred sent him was rather surprising, as he suddenly removed his eyes from the road and turned to stare at Arthur with an expression almost of… worry?

"Uh, yeah… Mattie's my brother." His response was more hesitant than usual, as well.

Strange. He'd turned his attention back to the road so Arthur couldn't see his face clearly, but he seemed a bit tense now. Because he'd mentioned his brother? Arthur had always thought the two got along well. Alfred had already mentioned that they lived together and Arthur had _seen_ Alfred at every single one of Matthew's hockey games. He was always the one sitting up in the stands, screaming at the top of his lungs, blowing a bullhorn, and probably embarrassing his poor sibling.

"Is he…doing well?" he asked, hesitantly.

He seemed to grow even more tense at that, which was incredibly strange. "Yeah, he's fine. He and his _boyfriend_ are totally doing great. Did I mention he has a boyfriend? His name's Gilbert. He and Mattie are _totally_ into each other. I can barely separate them for more than a couple minutes at a time."

…Okay?

Arthur was extremely confused about why Alfred was telling him this, but figured that it'd probably be easier not to ask. They were driving onto campus now anyway, which reminded Arthur that he'd made a rather stupid mistake in not bringing his placard so they could park in one of the handicapped spots.

Apparently Alfred wasn't going to let that stop him, though, as he drove right into one, turned off the car, and then hopped out. "Just hold on while I get your chair."

Not like there was a ton else he could do. Arthur waited as he heard Alfred open the back and retrieve his chair. Then he returned, rolling the chair up beside him.

This was actually more challenging. Pulling himself into a truck really just required upper body strength; lowering himself back into his chair partially involved lowering himself and partially was just a controlled fall. When you considered how slushy and icy the pavement was…

"Would you be able to hold the chair still for me?"

Alfred's response was so immediate that it almost made him think of a soldier responding to a superior's order. "Of course!" He wrapped his hands around the push handles and stood there with an expression like this was the most important job he'd ever been assigned.

At least he didn't have to worry about his seat moving on him. He really didn't want a repeat of this morning, so he took his time, trying not to feel rushed by Alfred's presence.

Once he'd reached his seat and moved his feet back onto the footplates, he turned to face his date. "You should probably move your truck."

"Probably. Mattie'd kill me if I got a ticket. I'll help you up on the sidewalk first, though. Then we can go inside. If that's okay with you, at least."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, that's acceptable."

You know, there was one thing Arthur hadn't really considered yet and could prove problematic. Namely, the fact that he actually knew _nothing_ about basketball… Which probably would be immediately noticeable to a sports fan like Alfred. He'd think that he was an idiot…

And shit.


	5. Chapter 5

You know, maybe taking Arthur to watch a basketball game that Alfred _knew_ was gonna be shitty hadn't been the best idea he'd ever had. But, look on the bright side, at least it'd been a lot more exciting than most of Mathias' games.

"So…" He glanced over to where Arthur was sitting in the passenger's seat of Mattie's truck. "This sorta thing happen often?"

"Don't even _start_."

So… The two of them had entered the gymnasium less than half an hour ago and looking back on it, Alfred wondered if maybe he should've _known_ to leave immediately after they visited the concession stand. They'd gone there first, of course, because Alfred couldn't even imagine watching a basketball game without snacks. And there, they were told that the stand was out of _nachos._

Alfred totally should've taken it as a sign. Like God was warning them to turn back. Because, seriously, the game had _just_ started and they were already out of nachos? How was that possible? Hardly anyone even _came_ to these games.

The guy at the stand had been apologetic, though, and offered to give his hot dog 'the works' for free, so they hadn't left. Well, not that he would've anyway, since he was on a date and that meant he had to play it cool.

Arthur hadn't seemed to care either way, after all. He said he wasn't interested when Alfred offered to buy him something, saying that he'd rather save his appetite for dinner, so they'd just headed in to the gymnasium.

It was easy enough to find a seat. The bleachers were almost empty and ninety percent of the people there were family members of the teammates. Half of them weren't even paying attention to the court; they were on their phones, taking a nap, reading, or… It looked like one older lady was making a quilt in the back row or something. Alfred found a spot in the first row, right at the end, so Arthur could roll up right beside him.

"You sure you don't want any of my hot dog?" he offered again.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "No, thank you."

Eh, that meant more for him. Alfred leaned back on the uncomfortable bleachers, feeling free to spread out as much as he wanted since there was nobody sitting anywhere near them. He could see Jakob, sitting at the other end of the bleachers. He was one of Mathias' other friends—as far as Alfred could tell, at least. They had kind of a weird relationship. Normally Alfred would go over and say 'hey'. Jakob wasn't a really talkative guy, but he was okay. But, today he had a _date._

Who was currently staring at the action occurring on the court—the other team had the ball and, shocker, were halfway to the basket already—with an expression that Alfred couldn't really identify. He was frowning… Maybe at how bad they were sucking?

Suddenly he turned toward Alfred, though, and asked, "So, what is the _point_ of this game?"

Well, that was kind of a weird question. Alfred paused with hot dog halfway to his mouth and asked, "You don't know how basketball works?"

Arthur actually blushed at that, which was way more adorable than was entirely fair, and said, "Of course I know how it works! I just…need a bit of a refresher perhaps. I can't be expected to remember the rules of every sport I've ever come in contact with, particularly when I have so many other things to think about that are _much_ more important."

Aw, man. He was so cute. It really wasn't fair.

"Well," he sat up straighter, setting his hot dog back in its little boat-container thing. "I mean, basically all you're trying to do is get the ball into the other team's hoop, while keeping them from scoring in yours."

Arthur sent him a look of annoyance. "I know _that_."

Oops. Don't piss off the date, Al. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. He wasn't really sure how in-depth of an explanation he wanted, though. So he glanced toward the court. "Okay, well, see where that guy is? He's taking a shot right now. That one's gonna be a two-pointer if he makes it in."

Which he did. Mathias' teammates didn't even look slightly disappointed. They were very used to this; there wasn't even a sound from the spectators. Heck, most of the guys on the court looked as disinterested as their family members in the bleachers, like they were just waiting for the game to be over so they could head home. Alfred wasn't really sure why most of them were here. He knew that Mathias had joined so he could piss off his dad, who was kind of a mega dick and had always wanted his son to be a professional football player.

"Your friend's team doesn't seem to be trying very hard," Arthur pointed out.

Alfred shrugged. "They never really do. They're resigned to it at this point. That's Mathias by the way." He pointed toward his friend, who was standing near his team's hoop with a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

Arthur made a noise of acknowledgement, but otherwise didn't say anything. Alfred took advantage of the silence to take huge bite out of his hot dog. Concession stand food, it was like the gods' ambrosia. Although he was still kinda annoyed about the nachos.

The opposing team scored three more times before Arthur spoke up again, which really wasn't that long. Just gave him enough time to finish his hot dog. "It seems like getting the ball into the net is a fairly simple objective. I don't understand why your friend's team is having so much trouble."

Alfred shrugged, quickly swallowing his last mouthful. That was one thing Mattie always got on him about, talking with his mouth full. "They just suck. Plus, this team is one of the best in the region."

Also one of the douchiest, from what Alfred had heard. Mathias' team would've been outmatched even if they _hadn't_ been filled with such a high degree of suckage. These guys were all like six foot six and mean as hell. He remembered hearing that one of them—the tallest and meanest-looking of the bunch—put a kid in a hospital once.

Mathias' teammates were avoiding that guy like the plague.

And that was when it happened.

One of Mathias' teammates—a kinda scrawny guy named Ben—had tried to pass the ball to another teammate, Erik, but somehow managed to totally miss. So that suddenly a basketball was flying right toward _him_ … Except, no, it was flying straight toward _Arthur_.

There was no time to respond. By the time Alfred registered what was happening, it was too late.

Except, instead of slamming into his date's face and ruining this entire evening, Arthur actually managed to reach up and snatched the ball right out of the air.

He looked pretty surprised when he did it, too. For a minute there was silence, as everybody just kind of stared at him in shock and Arthur stared at the ball like he wasn't sure where in the world the thing came from. He glanced toward Alfred, who was pretty sure that he'd just had a slight heart attack. Wouldn't Mattie love that? He'd probably blame it on his beloved hamburgers.

"Um…" Arthur started.

But he was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious shout from the court. "Yo, crip. Throw us the ball!"

And _that_ immediately captured Alfred's attention. It was that guy from the other team, the big one who put the kid in the hospital. He was standing on the sideline, glaring at Arthur. "Yo, you deaf, too? Throw me the fucking ball!"

Had he seriously just… Alfred was honestly too amazed to respond immediately. He was vaguely aware of one of the referees blowing his whistle. He started heading toward the guy, obviously about to throw him out of the game. Alfred was pretty sure that he should jump up and smash the guy's face in first, but then he was beaten to the figurative punch.

By Arthur. Who had a completely emotionless expression, even as he drew his arm back and then chucked that ball straight at the guy's head.

God, the sound it made when it impacted was enough to make every single person in that room wince. He was on the ground in an instant, laid flat on his back.

Alfred was half-out of his seat, staring at the guy in amazement.

Just barely aware of the sound of Arthur hissing out a "Shit." He turned his head to watch as his date maneuvered himself out of his spot, and then was out the door in a matter of seconds. Just stood there for a second, too shocked to move. Everybody else had seemed to freeze too.

That was when he realized, though, that Arthur probably had the right idea. He grabbed his garbage and then was out of that gym like a shot.

And now they were in Mattie's car. Arthur was pouting, arms crossed over his chest as he glared out of the side window.

Alfred tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as they sat there. He'd brought the car back up so Arthur could get in, but hadn't left yet. Kind of figured they should talk first.

"He totally deserved that," he offered. "And dude, it _was_ freaking awesome. I've never seen a basketball go like that."

He was staring at Arthur and managed to catch the faintest twitch of a smile cross his lips. Score. He returned to his pout, though, and then sighed. "I shouldn't have done that. Francis always says that I need to stop letting my temper get the best of me."

Alfred shrugged. "Eh, silver lining. That guy's definitely gonna think twice before he ever says anything like that again."

"I suppose."

He seemed kind of down now. Alfred continued to tap his fingers against the steering wheel, not sure what he should say. Why did some people have to be such dicks? What was even the _point_ of it?

"Also, silver lining," he finally said. "You're gonna be like the patron saint of Mathias' team now. They're gonna write you like sonnets and stuff." He couldn't really remember what a sonnet was, but he was pretty sure it was song or poetry related. The kind of stuff Arthur liked.

Arthur's lips twitched again and this time he turned toward him. "They're going to write me sonnets, are they?"

Alfred nodded. "Totally. You're gonna be this awesome mythic figure with an arm that can throw basketballs at the speed of sound." It was a pretty entertaining mental image. He could imagine Arthur as a superhero. "Then they're gonna write songs about how cool you are and how totally hot you are in that teddy bear sweater."

He couldn't help teasing him about that sweater. It was seriously adorable that he was wearing something his little niece picked out for him. Alfred honestly felt a little jealous about that. Having a little niece or nephew would be amazing, but obviously that wasn't happening unless Mattie and Gil decided to adopt. And even if they did, it wasn't something that would be happening anytime soon.

Arthur blushed at his comment and jerked his face away, but he was _definitely_ smiling now. "Git."

He'd accept that. Alfred grinned to himself and turned the key in the ignition. "So, off we go to _Merge_! I'm freaking starving." Seriously, one hot dog wasn't nearlyenough for him.

Arthur nodded, but then frowned again. "Aren't you upset about missing your friend's game?"

"Neh, not at all." It wasn't like the outcome was a mystery or anything. He'd just ask Mathias later for the details. Heck, knowing Mathias, he'd probably be getting a call as soon as the game was finished, asking about the guy he was with… Alfred had a lot of nosy friends; Mathias was one of them.

Arthur snorted, but seemed to relax. He turned his head slightly to stare out of the window. In most situations, Alfred would probably feel pretty uncomfortable now and try to force a conversation; Mattie always complained that he never knew when to shut up.

But, Arthur was smiling, even as he gazed out at the nasty, slushy streets.

It wasn't too far to _Merge_ ; thankfully, since he was starting to feel a bit antsy with the silence by that point. And there was actually parking left in the free lot, so leaving Mathias' game early had probably been a blessing in disguise. He pulled up right in front of the building, shifted into park, and then sent Arthur one of his infamously handsome smiles—he'd heard plenty of girls mentioning them, that's how he knew they were infamous. "Welp, here we are!"

Arthur was eyeing the bar. "I think I have been here before…"

His tone didn't give a hint at whether that was a good or bad thing, so Alfred decided to just assume it was a neutral comment. "Cool, I'll go get your chair then."

He nodded, looking slightly distracted. Alfred wasn't going to worry about that, though, because things were going well. Yeah, there'd been a little bit of a hiccup at the game, but Arthur seemed happy now and Alfred had managed to make him smile already.

He jumped out of the truck, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he accidentally splashed himself in the process. God, he hated winter. Someday he was going to move out to California.

"So," he began, after bringing the chair over to the passenger's door. He took his place behind, holding it still as Arthur repeated his motions from earlier. Honestly, Alfred find it kind of amazing how easy Arthur made it look to get in and out of the truck. "I actually was wondering… Obviously, we're both going to Merrleton, but I don't think I actually know what you're majoring in."

That was a total lie. He already knew that Arthur was majoring in English Lit, but it was the easiest conversation starter he could think of.

Arthur glanced up from where he'd been fiddling with something on the chair and Alfred was pretty sure he flushed—the light wasn't the greatest here, but he was pretty sure he caught a little flash of color cross his cheeks. "Ahh, I'm majoring in English Literature."

Score one for Alfred's totally-not-creepy prior knowledge. He pretended that this was new to him, though, as he took a step around to wait beside him as Arthur closed the door. "That's cool. Not a surprise we don't see each other more, then. I'm doing a double major in mechanical and electrical engineering."

Arthur looked slightly impressed, if he wasn't mistaken. "That sounds rather challenging."

"Eh, kinda. I've always been into that stuff, though, ever since I was a kid." They began to cross the parking lot toward the bar, although he could tell that Arthur was having a bit of trouble moving his chair through the snowy gunk. He wasn't sure if he should offer to help or not, so he instead offered an unsure, "Heh, yeah… That English stuff totally flies over my head."

"Yes, I remember that from middle school."

Yeah, he was definitely struggling, and looking rather annoyed about it. Whoever had been in charge of plowing the lot had obviously done a pretty shitty job. Cars could get through, but that was about it.

"You want some help pushing?" _Merge_ was only a hundred feet away or so, but Alfred couldn't stand watching his date struggle against shitty plowing jobs. Although really, he wouldn't be having any problem if the glares he was sending toward the snow were actually heat rays.

He immediately moved his hands away from the wheels. "Please. I don't know what the wankers who shovelled this thought they were doing."

Geez, it was pretty hard to push the chair through this shit even from behind. "Dude, we should totally complain to somebody about this. Leaving the parking lot all slushy isn't safe for anybody." Think of the little old ladies who might slip and hurt themselves. It wouldn't be heroic to ignore that kind of potential danger.

"Knowing this city, they'll make some sort of excuses about funding." Arthur snorted in obvious annoyance. He then glanced upwards as Alfred pushed them up onto the sidewalk, which was thankfully clear. The bar was a couple storefronts down; Alfred could hear muffled music. Maybe jazz? It was a bit too soft to tell.

"I still think I've been here before, but I can't remember…" He wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that, since Arthur muttered it so softly. Arthur moved his hands back down to the wheels and motioned for Alfred to stop pushing. Then headed straight toward the building while Alfred followed.

Hopefully his brother was right about this place having decent food. He'd never been to this bar, since most of the ones he and his friends went to were on the other side of town, closer to the college. It looked pretty much like any other bar/restaurant, though. There was a bartender washing some glasses behind a bar stocked with what seemed like hundreds of different types of alcohol. He was a really big guy, who was smiling for no apparent reason. He glanced up when they entered—Alfred noticed that he was wearing a pink scarf over his uniform, which was totally weird—and then sent Arthur an even brighter smile.

"Ah, it is little Arthur again! Hello! You are not going to make a mess of the bar again, will you?"

The guy had the thickest Russian accent that Alfred had ever heard; he was also still grinning at Arthur in a way that was kind of pissing him off. Alfred didn't even really think about it, he just moved slightly ahead of his date and tried to not be super obvious as he attempted to shield him from the bartender's sight.

He did catch a look of realization cross Arthur's face at the same moment. "Oh, _that's_ why…"

Alfred flashed him a slightly puzzled look. "Why, what?"

Arthur actually looked slightly embarrassed right now. He slid his hands up and down the tires of his chair and glanced down at the floor, a blush tinting the back of his neck red. He was silent for long enough that Alfred was ready to tell him to just get _on_ with it, but then he spoke in a voice almost too quiet to hear. "Well… Francis and I may have gotten kicked out of here last summer… For smashing glasses. And fighting."

Oh… Great.


	6. Chapter 6

This was not the first time in Arthur's life that he ended up mentally cursing his temper. Why? Why couldn't he just be a normal person who hadn't managed to get kicked out of half of the bars he'd visited in his life?

He'd been kicked out of so many that he couldn't even remember them all, and how sad was that?

Not that it was entirely his fault. He rarely got kicked out when his roommate was absent, so at least part of the problem was Francis.

The two of them shouldn't ever be allowed to drink together. Arthur already had a... _bit_ of a short fuse. After the fourth or fifth beer he lost any ability to control it, while Francis—who knew how to aggravate him to the point of foot-mangling when both of them were _sober_ —lost all self-preservation instincts after a few glasses of wine. They'd often end up in a shouting match, occasionally glasses would be broken, that sort of thing.

Funny thing was, they both _knew_ that they should never drink together, but they did it anyway. Probably because those nights always ended up being _interesting_ , at the very least.

Anyway... He honestly felt mortified right now and he really, _really_ wished that he'd recognized the name of this place earlier. He didn't want Alfred to know anything about this less-than-savoury aspect of his personality. At least, not at this point.

Although, he thought, he'd already made a terrible impression of himself at that stupid basketball game. Which had been so stupid. He should be used to those sorts of comments by now. There were plenty of assholes in the world, after all. But, even after all these years, those sorts of remarks still made him see red. And, since he'd been holding a convenient projectile, things sort of happened.

Arthur looked up toward Alfred, who was staring at the bartender for some reason. "Alfred?"

He jumped, like Arthur had startled him, but then hurriedly looked downward and sent him a heart-melting smile. "Sorry, zoned out. You still okay eating here?"

Like he'd admit it if he _wasn't_. "Yes, of course." He hesitated, then added, "If you are."

"Totally!" Alfred continued to grin, as a waiter finally hurried toward them with a tight smile and an apology for 'keeping them waiting'. Arthur wasn't sure if he'd seen him before. The man had longish, straight brown hair, a rather harried expression, and an accent that sounded...maybe Eastern European?

"I'm sorry. Right this way."

Arthur followed Alfred and the waiter toward the back of the restaurant, progress slightly hampered by the not-quite-but-almost-too-narrow aisles. The table was thankfully located away from the other few patrons: the middle-aged couple gazing at each other with sickeningly sweet smiles, the solitary girl staring at a laptop screen with the world-weary expression of the average college student, and the group of teenage girls sharing a plate of nachos while chattering about something apparently related to the middle girl's cell phone.

Their waiter moved the extraneous chair from the table and then set a menu in front of their places. "I'll return for your drink orders. Just a moment," he quickly commented, before leaving them alone.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but then moved into the empty space while Alfred took his seat. He sent a quick, longing glance toward the beer menu, but there was no way he was pushing his luck tonight.

Alfred immediately grabbed his menu and began perusing the glossy pages. Arthur mimicked his actions, for lack of anything better to do.

Christ, he was so fucking anxious right now. It felt like his chest was tightening and his palms were sweating like crazy. It was one thing to attend a basketball game with Alfred. There, communication was limited and he could relax because he knew his date's attention was focused on the court, not on him. Here, they would actually converse and it was _way_ easier to fuck things up when he was talking. He was running through conversation topics in his head, but nothing seemed appropriate.

Fuck, how did Francis make this look so _easy_?

Alfred glanced at him over his menu. "You know what you want to order yet?"

He honestly hadn't even been looking at the menu; he'd just been holding it up as a sort of shield between himself and his own awkwardness. He lied, though. "Yes. I've heard their...um..." he picked an item at random, "corned beef sandwiches are good."

"Sweet!" He seemed oddly excited by that. "You wanna get an appetizer? We could get mozzarella sticks or fried pickles or onion rings or we could get one of each!"

Arthur honestly couldn't understand how in the world Alfred could eat so much food without making himself sick. Just _thinking_ about it made him feel nauseous.

"Fried pickles would be fine, I suppose."

"Awesome!" Now their waiter finally returned, apologizing again. Alfred just grinned and over-enthusiastically ordered the pickles and a plate of mozzarella sticks, as well as a Pepsi and a double cheeseburger with one of those cutesy, bar-specific names. Arthur just said he'd take a water and the corned beef sandwich, and the waiter left again.

"So..." Alfred was now tapping his fingers on the table in a staccato pattern. It definitely hadn't taken long for Arthur to notice that the boy had trouble remaining still. It was rather endearing, honestly. "Can I ask about the whole 'getting thrown out of here' thing or is it a touchy subject?"

Arthur was certain that he turned bright red at that. "Um..."

"It's cool if you don't wanna, but that sounds like an awesome story. I've never been in a bar fight."

"It wasn't really a bar fight..." It only involved himself and Francis for one thing and there weren't any tables being thrown or barstools being knocked over. Well, technically one fell over, but that was because he backed into it accidentally. "The frog just said something stupid—no surprise there—and I threw a glass towards him. It didn't even hit him." It was embarrassing to talk about this. "Anyway, the owner overreacted and we got kicked out."

Alfred was still grinning. "Eh, that's not that bad. Gil and I got kicked out of a place once 'cause he got so drunk he thought it'd be funny to climb on top of the bar and do a strip-tease."

At least that was something he'd never have to worry about himself doing while intoxicated. Arthur remembered Alfred mentioning a 'Gilbert' earlier. He assumed this was the same person. "Gil is your brother's boyfriend, correct?"

Alfred was playing with the salt and pepper shakers now, stacking them on top of each other before setting them back on the table. He nodded. "Yep, Mattie and Gil have been dating for a few years now. Although, Gil and I have been friends since we were kids. He's usually cool, although sometimes he's a dick. He's actually the reason why I went to Walmart this morning. Guy demolished my snack stash, so I had to go out and buy more."

Ah, Arthur should at least mentally thank Gilbert, then. If he hadn't 'demolished Alfred's snack stash,' then he wouldn't be on this date right now.

"I guess I can't really be pissed at him anymore, though. If he hadn't eaten all my snacks, I wouldn't have been able to help you in that parking lot!"

Arthur nodded, although he did feel of twinge of embarrassment at the reminder of the parking lot disaster. As happy as he was to be here right now, he really wished that he'd been able to make a more dignified first impression. "Thank you for that, again. Francis has been bothering me about getting that ramp fixed. I suppose I'll finally have to listen to him."

Alfred nodded emphatically and flailed his arm out in an excited motion, almost smacking their waiter-returning-with-drinks in the face in the process. He didn't even seem to notice, too wrapped up in his next words. "Definitely, dude! Mattie's always getting on me about putting that kinda stuff off! I remember one time, me and Mattie were putting up Christmas lights on the house and I knew the ladder was getting kinda worn, but I decided to use it anyway 'cause it was only one strand and I didn't wanna have to wait 'til dad got another. Anyway, it ended up breaking, I fell, broke my arm, couldn't play sports or go swimming or do anything all summer!"

The waiter set their drinks on the table, eyeing Alfred like he was expecting him to attack him again. "I'll be right back with your appetizers," he said quickly, before escaping.

Arthur was pretty sure Alfred had missed that entire interaction, because he now glanced down at his soda with a mystified expression like he thought it'd just appeared out of thin air. After a moment, though, he seemed to decide that he wasn't going to question it and took a large sip.

"Yes, well..." Arthur said after a few moments of silence. "I'll have to do it now. I was just hoping that I could make it to the summer. I'm not sure how I'll be able to get to class without it." Their city wasn't the best when it came to public transportation, especially in the area around his apartment. "Francis can take me to class on some days, but his schedule doesn't work with mine on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays." Plus, he usually took Emilie to pre-school twice a week, since Francis had to work early in the morning on Mondays and Fridays.

Such a pain.

Alfred's expression changed into one of sympathy. "Your van takes a while to fix?"

"Ages." He was pretty sure that was entirely due to incompetency. "Last time they had it for a month. I should probably start looking into trading it in for something newer, but they're expensive and the dealer is five hours away, so..."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Ew."

"Precisely." Arthur watched as their waiter approached them again.

This time, Alfred noticed him as well, and sent him a delighted grin when he noticed the baskets of fried pickles and mozzarella sticks. "Awesome! Thanks!"

"You're welcome." The waiter smiled back, which sent a slight pang of jealousy through Arthur's heart. Which was stupid, because Alfred was so distracted by his food that he hadn't even noticed the gesture. He was already shovelling mozzarella sticks and fried pickles into his mouth at a rate that was moderately terrifying.

After the waiter left again, Alfred shoved the plate of fried pickles toward him. "You gotta try these!"

He accepted, although he was rather distracted by the _speed_ at which Alfred was eating. The boy acted like he was _starving_ , even after eating that hot dog at the basketball game.

He eventually turned his attention to the basket, picked up a spear, and dipped it into the accompanying ranch dressing. Then he bit down on the sour, crunchy treat. Rather good. As much as he generally hated fried food, he did have a bit of a weakness for these.

"Try the mozzarella sticks too!" Alfred said, half them already gone.

Arthur shook his head. "You can keep them."

The boy gave him a look like he thought he was crazy for not accepting his offer, but then seemed to decide 'oh well, more for me' and returned to his eating. After a minute, though, he said, "So, you might be out one car for a while, then? What time are your classes on those days?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "Nine thirty on Monday and Friday, although if it's one of Francis's weeks, then that would add another difficulty because she needs to be at pre-school by eight fifteen." He sighed. "Then, my Thursday class isn't until just after noon."

Alfred jerked in his seat and flailed out again. Thankfully, this time there were no waiters within attack-range. "Dude, that'd actually be perfect! I could help out! I have class on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday starting at nine fifteen and I don't really have anything going on that early on Fridays, so I could totally take you!"

What? "No," Arthur automatically responded.

"It isn't an issue at all," Alfred argued. "You're only like fifteen minutes from me and I'm up early anyways, so it's no big deal. I can even help with carpooling Emilie."

"Isn't it in the opposite direction for you, though?" Arthur was rather certain that Alfred lived closer to the university than he did. "And I'd need a ride back, too."

Arthur knew that he absolutely _shouldn't_ let Alfred do something as hare-brained as driving fifteen minutes out of his way three times a week just to take him to and from class. That would be stupid and a complete waste of his time and money.

But Alfred shook his head again. "No, it's totally cool. I wouldn't mind doing it at all. That's what a hero would do after all!"

Now, the reasonable side of Arthur's brain immediately responded to this with a, 'No, that's absolutely ridiculous. Just say that you'll hire a cab or ask your parents to take you or something. Yes, it'll be annoying, but it's better than putting Alfred out unnecessarily.'

However, the completely-lovestruck, illogical side of brain countered with a, 'Fuck you! Say yes! That's like an extra hour and a half of ogling time per week! He's gorgeous and wonderful and he's asking you to spend time with him! You'd have to be stupid to not say yes to that!'

Both sides had valid points, but it really wasn't much of a contest. Arthur's mouth answered with a, "Well... If you wouldn't mind, then perhaps it could work. But you have to agree to let me pay you for gas and your time. And I'm not going to put you out of your way unless it's _absolutely_ necessary."

Alfred made a dismissive motion with a mozzarella stick. "Don't pay me. Then I'd feel like a cabby or something."

Arthur scowled. That was an unreasonable thing to say. "I'm not letting you drive half an hour out of your way three times a week without paying you."

"There's no reason to pay me. I'm offering." He popped the stick into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then said, "It'll make the drive more interesting anyway."

That was absolutely ridiculous. "Absolutely not. I'm either paying you or I won't go."

Alfred looked exasperated now. "Fine. Then, what about this? I drive you to class and get Emilie to preschool and you repay me by paying for our next two dates."

... _What?_

Arthur's expression must have revealed his shock, because Alfred's eyes widened in what looked like terror and he hurriedly waved his hands over his plate. "I mean, only if you want to...ya know...go on more dates with me! I know today was kind of a disaster with the game and stuff, but...I mean...I've kind of been wanting to ask you out for like...years now. And I was really excited when you said 'yes' and it's totally cool if you don't want to, man. Like, I probably shouldn't have even said that, so..."

His rambling tirade was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing beside them. "Um, I'm sorry..."

Arthur turned to see the waiter standing beside them again, holding a tray that held two plates. One held a _massive_ burger, the other had a much smaller corned beef sandwich. The man looked vaguely embarrassed. "I have your entrees."

"Oh, thank you," Arthur answered after a moment of not being sure how to respond to his presence.

He nodded and then left to greet the new guest who had just walked in.

Alfred didn't even glance at his meal. He was too busy staring at Arthur with a worried, nervous expression. "Um... I'm sorr—"

"I don't..." Arthur began, then stopped. His mind was still trying to wrap around what Alfred had just said. He wanted to go out with him _again_? Not even just 'again', but he was thinking forward to _two_ dates? "You really want to go out...again?"

Alfred seemed to relax slightly at that. His smile returned and he nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! I mean, today's date wasn't really as nice as I was hoping it'd be, so I've definitely gotta make it up to you!"

"I've enjoyed myself," Arthur admitted. Yeah, that guy at the game had been obnoxious, but he'd smacked him in the face with a basketball, so that kind of made up for it. Besides, he was on a date with _Alfred_. How could he _not_ be happy right now?

Especially after receiving another of those smiles; he honestly wished that he could just box up the brightness of Alfred's grins and keep them in a shoebox to pull out whenever he had a bad day.

Arthur dropped his gaze to his plate, embarrassed, and busied his hands by pulling the toothpick out of his sandwich. "I suppose that if you're determined to not accept payment, then that would be an acceptable compromise. Although," he knew he was blushing, but he pressed on. "I don't know if two dates would be sufficient. That's an hour of extra driving per day, after all. Perhaps, we could make it three dates, instead?"

Arthur wasn't sure that he'd ever be able to lift his head after saying something so audacious. He knew that Alfred was going to reject him...

"That sounds perfect to me!"

But, he didn't, and Arthur now risked looking up. Alfred was sending him the most brilliant smile of the night, and he could _feel_ the lovestruck, illogical side of his brain immediately explode in a shower of hearts and rainbows and overly-emotional bullshit.

Ugh, the logical side of his brain wanted to punch himself, because _seriously_?

"Although," Alfred continued. "I seriously don't think the gas would cost that much. I mean, Mattie's truck definitely isn't the most fuel efficient, but that's like..." He paused for a moment, eyes lifting as he performed mental calculations in his head.

Arthur interrupted him, not even allowing himself a moment to think through what he was about to say. "Well, perhaps one of those dates could be at my place?"

It took a moment, but then he realized what he'd just said and the possible _implications_ of what he'd just said. "I...I mean..." Oh God, the mental images that immediately passed through his mind. What was _wrong_ with him? "We could..." He desperately tried to think of something else. "Make cookies! Just cookies! Nothing...anything...not anything else! Just baking and not...other...things..."

Okay, when he got home tonight, he was going to smother himself with a pillow.

Why? Why had his brain immediately—upon hearing the words 'my place' come out of his _own fucking mouth_ —leapt to images that were completely not appropriate for the current time or place. _Why_?

Alfred probably hadn't even interpreted his remark in the same way, but then he'd gone off and panicked and now he was staring at him with a bemused expression and _fuuuuuck_...

"Cookies?" he finally said, after a few moments of mortification-filled silence. Arthur wondered if it might be better to just put himself out of his misery right now.

He had to speak, though. He cleared his throat and reluctantly mumbled, "Well, if it's about me spending too much money. It would be cheaper to have a date at...home. And I'm sure that Francis would have no problem letting us have free reign over the kitchen for an evening."

That was definitely one of the biggest lies he'd ever told. Francis was reluctant to even let him _inside_ their shared kitchen after the Flying Spatula Incident of '07.

And now Alfred was sitting there, looking like he was thinking this through, which just made this whole situation worse.

Why did his brain have to immediately jump to sex? Yeah, maybe he'd fantasized about it before, but he knew that Alfred probably wasn't going to be interested. It wasn't like they could do it the 'traditional' way and he was pretty sure that'd be a deal-breaker for most people.

"That does sound pretty fun," Alfred finally said. "You like video games? I could bring over my Xbox!"

...Did that mean that he actually believed him about the cookies? Because Arthur was relatively certain that even Emilie wouldn't fall for that and she was four.

He'd take it, though. "That sounds...fine." He'd never actually played a video game before, but he'd agree to anything right now.

And the traitorous, evil part of his mind—which sounded _way_ too much like Francis for his liking—responded to that thought with a 'oh yes, you'd agree to _anything_ he asked right now, wouldn't you?'

"You feeling okay, Artie? You look really red right now."

"Fine!" That word came out in a panicked squeak; he hurriedly cleared his throat and continued in a forcibly-relaxed tone. "I mean, I'm fine. Maybe a bit...out-of-sorts, but nothing to worry about."

Alfred looked concerned, but then he lit up. "I know! Here," and he tore off a bit of his burger and then set it on Arthur's plate. "Burgers cure everything!"

Arthur honestly had no response to that.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred was floating on cloud nine right now. He'd blasted over the moon. He felt like he was engaged in all those flight-related happiness clichés—all at the same time—because Arthur Kirkland had agreed to go out with him again! _Three agains_! Not only that, but he'd be driving the gorgeous and incredibly sexy Arthur to class and back while his van was out, which meant that Alfred would get to see him at least a couple extra times per week for the next however-long-that-took.

He knew that Mattie, if he were here, would warn him about not getting his hopes up too high. But screw that, Arthur obviously liked him back! If he didn't, then he wouldn't have agreed to go out with him on _three_ more dates.

 _Three_! And one of those dates was going to involve cookies!

Ugh, he really wanted to just go out and run around right now, telling everyone he came across that his life was fucking _amazing_. But, he couldn't do that, because he had to keep his cool. There was still time for him to mess this up, after all. While their date had gone amazingly-well thus far—if you ignored that asshole at the basketball game, at least—he still had five more minutes of driving left. And a lot could happen in five minutes.

They were driving back toward Arthur's place right now. Alfred was tapping his hands against the steering wheel and humming along with the barely-audible jazz music playing over the radio, while Arthur stared out at the tree-lined residential streets and well-lit houses. It was a comfortable, warm silence.

Alfred did eventually break it, though, because he felt too happy right now to stay quiet. "So..." he said in a relaxed drawl. "When are you planning on taking your van in? Just so I can make sure to clear out my schedule for those days."

Arthur turned his head away from the window. It was too dark to clearly read his expression, but his response seemed a bit hesitant. "I suppose that I could try to take it in this weekend. Perhaps. I will have to talk to my parents first, though."

His tone shifted when he said the words 'my parents', like the words tasted unpleasantly sour or something. Alfred frowned slightly and didn't stop to think before he commented. "You don't sound very excited about that."

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest in a habitual motion that Alfred had already noted was really fucking cute. "No, I can't say that I am. Spending that much time with my parents is always a rather exhausting, unpleasant experience."

"You don't get along?"

"It's not that." Arthur tilted his head back and stared up at the cloth ceiling. "They just fret over _everything_ , which is incredibly aggravating. Mother will probably work herself into a fit when I tell her that I fell, never mind that I'm fine. And Father will, most likely, ask if I don't think that it'd be better to come back and live with them."

Alfred gave a sympathetic wince. "That sounds rough."

"It's not that I don't understand their feelings," Arthur continued, sighing. "I know that they worry about my safety, and I _did_ manage to burn myself rather stupidly against a radiator last winter. Still, though, I wish they would stop acting like it would be better if I lived in a protective bubble like some porcelain doll. It's not like I live alone, anyway."

Alfred nodded, making a turn onto another residential street. Only a couple more blocks until they reached his house. "Yeah, that's definitely one of the nice things about living with somebody else. You've got somebody you can depend on, if they're a good roomie, at least. That's a big reason why me and Mattie live together. That and the fact that it's _way_ cheaper."

Arthur made a sound of agreement. "Exactly. There's no need for them to worry constantly, but they do anyway. It's incredibly annoying." He trailed off, then cleared his throat. "Anyway," he sounded almost-embarrassed. "I shouldn't sit here complaining about this. I had a lovely evening and it's incredibly kind of you to offer to drive me to class while my van is out of commission."

"No problem. You can vent to me whenever you need to." Alfred sent him a quick smile before returning his attention to the road. "And driving you is no problem at all. It means that we'll get to see way more of each other, after all." He watched Arthur out of the corner of his eye for a response.

He couldn't quite tell, but he _thought_ that he might be blushing. Arthur hurriedly turned his head away and coughed. "I... Well, I suppose we will. That wouldn't be...unpleasant."

Man, he was adorable. Alfred grinned again and made the turn onto Arthur's street. "Sounds great to me."

His house was easily identifiable, even in the dark. It had a wooden ramp leading down to the driveway, lit by strands of white Christmas lights that were entwined around the railings. He turned into the driveway and parked, then turned to his date.

Arthur was already staring back at him, although he hurriedly looked down at his lap when their eyes met. "Well... I... I should thank you for the evening."

The thought passed through Alfred's mind that this was the perfect moment for a kiss. They were surrounded by a warm silence, in a dark, quiet place that felt disconnected from the rest of the world. Arthur lifted his eyes after a moment and Alfred felt his breath hitch slightly as he was met by a slightly-curious mossy-green gaze. This date had definitely made it clear that he was _majorly_ attracted to his guy and Alfred really wanted to kiss him right now.

But... They'd only been on one date. And he didn't want to fuck this up by moving too quickly. Arthur might be the type of guy who'd rather wait for the second or third date to move forward in such a big way, and besides, he already felt like he'd pushed his luck by asking for more dates. He should just be content with what he got.

He flashed Arthur another quick, slightly-nervous smile and then turned and pushed his door open, letting in a blast of cool, night air that helped clear his head a bit. "Yeah, I... same. Um, I'll get your chair now." Then he jumped outside, slamming the door behind him.

Ugh, the thing was, though, that Arthur _also_ might be the type of guy who expected a good date to end with a kiss. So he _could_ end up feeling disappointed if Alfred didn't follow through. He really had no idea how to tell when a guy was giving you the go-ahead. He'd looked up at him, but had that been a sign that he wanted more or was he just wondering why the fuck Alfred was staring at him like an idiot?

...Why did dating have to be so _complicated_?

It'd probably be safer to just wait. Leaving Arthur wanting more was definitely a better alternative than making him think he was a creepy perv. Besides, he wanted Arthur to see that he could totally be a gentleman and he was pretty sure that a gentleman would respect his date's boundaries and wait for the perfect moment, rather than push forward to satisfy his own desires.

This seemed logical. Alfred nodded to himself as he moved to the back of the truck and pulled the wheelchair from the bed. Besides, his brother's truck wasn't the ideal place for a first kiss anyway. He could totally come up with something more romantic.

He could always Google 'romantic places for first kisses' and use that as a starting point.

Awesome plan, Alfred. Mental congratulatory self-five.

He rolled the wheelchair over to the passenger's side door, which Arthur had already pushed open. He noticed that his date was staring at him with a kind of odd expression, but he didn't say anything. He just transferred himself back into his chair while Alfred held it still and then rolled himself up the ramp to the front door. Alfred hesitated for a moment, but then followed.

Arthur stopped in front of the door and then turned himself to face Alfred. He smiled slightly. "Thank you. Tonight was very...pleasant. I...um...I'm looking forward to next time."

"Same." Definitely. "I'll call you tomorrow, once I look at my schedule. I think I'm free next Saturday, so we could maybe go somewhere. I'll let you pick what we do. I'm up for anything!"

Arthur was blushing. He nodded, then said, "Just so long as it's clear that I'm also paying for it."

"Yeah, yeah." He didn't get why Arthur was being so insistent about that, but whatever.

Then, an awkward silence descended and Alfred shifted his weight between his feet. Should he just say 'goodbye' now? He didn't really want to leave on such a boring note, but there wasn't much else to say or do. "Well..." he finally started.

But, then he was interrupted by a shout from nearby. "Uncle Artie, need to give him a kiss!"

And that was probably the last thing Alfred expected to hear right then. Arthur's eyes widened in horror and he spun his chair around at a speed that was pretty impressive, actually. " _Emilie!_ "

Alfred caught a glimpse of the little girl's face in a nearby window for a split second. She hurriedly dropped out from sight, though, probably recognizing the slightly-murderous tone her uncle's voice had adopted.

He couldn't help it. He immediately burst into laughter. "Well, then."

Arthur spun back toward him again and Alfred was pretty sure he'd never seen anyone's face turn _that_ bright a shade of crimson before. "Fuck, I am so, so sorry. I can't believe... Francis must have..." He was stuttering and it was the cutest thing in the world.

He kept laughing. "Well, I guess she helped make that decision for me."

"Don't listen to her. She doesn't know... I mean, it's fine if you don't. I wasn't expecting you to... It's fine. I won't be disappointed or anything. I know a lot of people prefer waiting until later dates and it wouldn't be appropriate to expect..."

"Would it be okay for me to give you a good night's kiss?"

Arthur froze mid-rant and stared at him, eyes wide and mouth left open for a few long moments that felt like a mini-eternity. Alfred was pretty sure he was turning red as well, although it'd take some work to reach the same shade as his date. He maybe shouldn't have just blurted that out, but...

Arthur's expression changed in the next few moments, though. His eyes narrowed, growing almost predatory, and then he suddenly said, "Oh, sod it," before reaching up and grabbing onto Alfred's shirt. Didn't really give him a chance to respond. He just yanked him downwards, knocking him entirely off-balance so he had to grab onto the chair's armrests to keep from falling onto his date.

"Of course you can, you bloody gorgeous bastard." Then he was rather-unexpectedly being kissed and _fuck_ , Arthur wasn't holding _anything_ back.

This was probably the most awkward angle they could have chosen, but fuck, Alfred couldn't really bring himself to care. Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer, then tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

It was only when Alfred's back, lungs, and arms started to _really_ ache that he finally moved backwards, completely out of breath. Arthur's arms remained wrapped around his neck, keeping him bent over in an extremely unnatural angle. He wasn't planning on breaking contact, though, so he supposed he'd just have to deal with it.

He actually was planning on moving on to round two when he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He lifted his head slightly met the wide, blue-eyed gaze of a rather adorable little Peeping Tom.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"What?" He definitely sounded rather annoyed by the interruption. His grip tightened and yeah, kissing was great but this was starting to become really uncomfortable.

He tried shifting his feet, but it didn't really help. "I think your niece is starting to pick up on some voyeuristic tendencies."

At least his words led Arthur to finally release him so he could straighten himself. Unfortunately, it also led him to spin his chair around and knock him off-balance again. This time he grabbed onto the railing, which was rather wet due to half-melted snow.

" _Francis_!"

Alfred was going to take this as his cue to leave. "So, I'll call you tomorrow?"

Arthur turned back toward him and he was _really_ red again. "Um, yes, I'm so sorry about..."

"It's cool." He took a step closer and then bent down again, this time placing a light peck on the cheek. "I really look forward to our next date, Artie."

He didn't bother waiting for Arthur's response to that. He just jumped backwards and flashed him one of his most dazzling smiles before turning toward the truck. "Have a nice night!"

He needed to get into the truck because he was pretty sure he was about to burst into a flurry of excited giggles and he'd much rather leave on a cool note. Although his steps may have held a bit of a schoolyard-type skip to them, but just a bit.


End file.
